


What's Mine is Yours'

by puppetwriter



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Feels, Incest, M/M, Rings, Wincest - Freeform, like no, omfg fluff, the feels hurt, you don't get it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-30
Updated: 2013-10-30
Packaged: 2017-12-30 22:16:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1024018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/puppetwriter/pseuds/puppetwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean gets hurt and when he wakes up he's missing something that he considers very important.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What's Mine is Yours'

Sam looked up to see Dean staring at him intently, a warm smile on his face. “What?” he asked nervously, Dean was rarely like this unless they were alone, and they clearly weren't, sitting in the diner surrounded by families of strangers and workers.

“Nothing, you're just such a geek, dude.” Dean said with a laugh, going back to his burger and fries.

“Hey!” Sam exclaimed, slightly offended, they'd been past the teasing for a while now, especially after dad. It'd just been the two of them, no more one night stands for Dean. The only phone number he'd needed for a while now was Sammy's after the one night.

“I'm just saying, man. Stanford was good for you, you just lose yourself in this stuff. You should have went for demonology instead of pre-law, though,” Dean finished with a fond smile as Sam realized he really wasn't teasing him. It seemed to be an honest to god compliment for once. Dean looked around quickly and then leaned over the table, closer to Sam, “I'm glad you came back.” The words were firm but Sam knew the sentence continued, knew that Dean was glad that Sammy had came back to HIM, even when dad was gone and the Demon dead, was still with him.

“I'm glad I'm here with you too, Dean,” Sammy murmured, a lot less caught up in the restrictions Dean seemed to trap himself in. He remembers how it all started, he'll probably remember it more vividly than anything else for the rest of his life. As most things did with the Winchesters, it started with an argument that turned into a fight. Sam thanked God for both their hotheaded stubbornness though, or they'd still be at each others throats. 

Sam couldn't remember the specifics, the reason for the fight. He remembered the monotony of hotels and the food and the hunts. He remembered Dean being quiet, being bossy and harsh, unable to comprise. He remembered the yelling, back and forth, Dean yelling over him until Sam was vaulting off one motel room bed to push Dean down onto his own, his lips covering his brother's so he could finally get him to shut up. Finally, show him that it was okay, that it was them, it was Dean and Sammy til the end and Sam didn't want it any other way. Didn't want to be harassed and tricked into hooking up in every town they passed through. 

Sam had only seen Dean cry when their dad died, but it happened again then. The warmth of the tears against his face as they kissed worrying him, Dean kissing him back worrying him even more even though it was everything he'd ever wanted and more. There were hands in his hair, the soft, strong, calloused hands that had protected him, pushed him down from gun fire and pulled him back up after a hunt. 

Sam moved his head into the caresses, Dean's lips soft as they pulled away, “Sammy, Sam, we can't...” he whispered brokenly.

“Why not!?” Sam demanded, not bothering to whisper, there was nothing to break because in this room only the two of them existed, this wasn't just going to go away, “You've been my father and my brother, why can't you be my lover too, Dean? No one will ever understand us like we do, no one will ever love you enough to take a bullet for you, not like I do.” Sam framed Dean's face as he hoovered above him, letting their eyes catch and settle as they quieted, a straggling tear rolling from the edge of Dean's eye down to the bed bellow.

“You know why, Sammy.”

“Because it's not right, because it's not moral? What does it matter, Dean? Who do we have that cares? Bobby. That's it and Bobby doesn't have to know. We kill demons and monsters, not exactly the high ground, Dean, and we never stay in one place long but you know what is consistent? Us. Me and you , and even with this it's everything we've ever been and always tried to ignore. We've been at each others throats, and I can't stand it anymore, Dean. You said we were all you had, and now I'm right here and you're trying to push me away. Everyday of our lives is an uphill struggle, why does it need to be a struggle with us too, Dean? No one will ever know us better.” 

“You know I love you, Sammy,” Dean murmured, slipping on the words, his hand tight against Sam's scalp, the words coming to life with meaning after being unspoken and abused for so long.

“Then why won't you love me?” Sam asked helplessly.

There must have been something in his expression that broke Dean in that moment, something he'd never seen on Sam's face before because he was leaning up and they were kissing again. Not the angry acclimating kissing from early, this time it was sweet and soft, and everything that Sam knew his brother could be when he was trying to hide. The Dean who tucked Sam in when he was scared and their dad was on a hunt. The Dean who gave up the last bowl of Lucky Charm's for Sam when he hadn't had a single piece of the cereal yet. The safety blanket he'd lent to every kid they'd met so far on a case. 

Sam let his body settle, his hands moving to Dean's hair so his elbows could rest against the bed, his chest flush with Dean's. The kisses they shared made his head spin, and they ended up under the covers like that for hours, close, together, and safe. 

Sam had wanted everything, but just like Dean in every other aspect of their life when it concerned Sam it didn't happen. Dean was protective, patient, and things came at their own pace and Sam saw the love on Dean's face every minute of everyday, instead of the stoic resolve that had once settled. There was kissing and holding, and touches that hand once been awkward were firmer and more pronounced because the meaning was clear now. 

They'd spend hours between hunts just laying in bed, touching, grounding themselves, talking like they hadn't in years. Like when they were children and they'd lay in separate beds talking until they fell asleep. Except now, Sam didn't have to crawl into bed with Dean if Dean fell asleep first because he was scared. Now he could just latch on and stay there and even though they knew how important they were to each other before this, the change made them realize why their time before had always seemed off, awkward.

Things today were so much better than they had ever been, and it showed when Dean did something as simple as leaning over his dinner in a packed shitty diner and whispered, “I love you, Sammy,” before sitting back to finish his dinner. Sam smiled at him before his attention did finally make it back to his food before he looked back down at what he'd been reading, snatching some fries off Dean's plate as he did so, a wounded look meeting his playfully. 

Just another comfortable dinner, in another town, on another hunt. Sam didn't think life could get any better than it had been getting. 

“I love you too,” he whispered over their meal as the evening settled down. 

SPNSPN

The hunt, god the hunt. Sam couldn't tell you whether it had went good or bad. He had a really biased opinion. Good thing being they'd ganked the fucking demon; bad part being that Sam had been caught off guard when they'd split up and Dean had literally taken a fucking bullet for him and god if Sam didn't start screaming that hysterically when the paramedics showed up. 

Dean was pretty incoherent so Sam didn't feel too bad when he denied getting a lift to the hospital with Dean, deciding to just take the Impala so he had a reason to concentrate on calming himself down and so he didn't have to get it later.

Once at the hospital, he was settled by the fact the bullet had gone through, no shrapnel left behind or vital organs hit. The incoherency was just due to blood lose, and in Sam's book it couldn't get much better than that when it came to gunshot wounds. A round of antibiotics and a blood transfusion would have Dean back on his feet in a few days.

Once the doctors were done with checking his vitals and putting him on an IV, Sam was left alone with him. Left alone to lay his head on the bed by his brother's hand, holding it between his own as he closed his eyes, letting sleep settle over him now that he could hear the strong beat of his brother's heart on the monitor, but also feel it against his own hands. 

 

“Sammy,” the gurgled version of his name woke him and Sam blinked up sleepily at Dean, clutching his hand tightly around Dean's as he answered.

“Yeah, Dean, I'm here, how are you feeling?” Sam asked, sitting up to see Dean fully, to push a hand through his hair and push his forehead against Dean's as he sighed in contentment.

“Pretty good, considering, I took a bullet for you,”

“I can't believe you did that, Dean, it's supposed to be a figure of speech.” Sam said, sitting back in his chair exasperated. 

“No, it's not. I'd take a bullet for you any day, Sammy. I'd marry you if I could.” Dean replied, his eyes closed as he clutched Sam's hand.

“Really?” Sam whispered, his hand tight around Dean's in turn.

“Yeah, been thinking about it for a while. Know there's no way too, but it's the thought that counts, right?”

“Yeah, Dean, it's the thought that counts.” Sam replied, letting his other hand reach up to thread through Dean's hair, lulling the older man back to sleep. “It's the thought that counts,” Sam murmured again to himself much later as he got up to leave. 

 

When Dean woke, he was alone and it scared him slightly.

Well, it scared him a lot because as much morphine as he'd probably had in his system, he still remembered the conversation he'd had with Sam before falling back to sleep. It wasn't like Sam to leave Dean in this kind of condition by himself ever, especially not asleep. He looked around the room, hoping to find a bag of his things and saw nothing. He stretched out his limbs and ran his hands against his face, breathing. He realized his ring was gone and practically growled. They'd probably had it taken off when he'd had the CT scan to check for shrapnel, he wondered if he'd ever see it again. He laid in bed helplessly, flicking through channels to distract himself for a while.

He'd been awake for a few hours when Sam finally made his way back in to the room. 

“Dude, where've you been?” Dean asked roughly.

“I went down to the store, why? What's up?” Sam replied, his eyes widening at the rough tone as he moved to claim his chair once again. His bag of goodies settling with him.

“Nothing, you're just usually here when I wake up, I kinda freaked,”

“You could have called,”

“I don't know where any of my stuff is.”

“Oh,” Sam murmured his face heating up, “That would be my fault actually, my bad. I took everything to get washed and everything else so it wouldn't get lost.”

“Where's my ring, dude?” Dean demanded. He saw Sam clench his fist and looked down to see the familiar silver wrapped around Sam's ring finger. It made his heart beat quicken and his face flush, a smile stealing his face, his cheeks hurting from the ferocity.

Sam went to take it off and Dean shook his head, “No, you...you can keep it, I wanted to give it to you. Thought it might have to be resized. Was gonna be a gift.” Sam's smile was worth tripping over his words for and Dean, shuffled down into the bed and covers, closing his eyes and getting comfortable again now that Sam was back.

It took a while for Sam to regain his normal position, his hand grasping Dean's as they sat in comfortable silence, and when he did Dean felt the cold press of steel against his palm. 

“It's funny,” Sam started, “because I was just out searching for one to replace it, anyway. I may not be able to marry you, Dean, but I can promise you. I promise you that this is it.” Sam murmured as he slid the ring onto Dean's finger, covering the untanned skin the other had left, their hands sliding together and holding tightly.

“I promise, Sammy,” Dean choked back, leaning forward through the wincing pain to kiss him.


End file.
